


Proper

by swanqueenfic13



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-26
Updated: 2015-12-26
Packaged: 2018-05-09 14:23:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5543177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/swanqueenfic13/pseuds/swanqueenfic13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on a beautiful little prompt from RapunzelLover:</p><p>"Would you do one where Regina cuts her hair off as a young woman and her mother has to fix it? Maybe shearing it all off?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Proper

**Author's Note:**

  * For [RapunzelLover](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RapunzelLover/gifts).



I was ten, and my hair had just gotten tangled in a tree branch. I had yanked myself free when I jumped down, but it was left a tangled mess with branches and leaves entwined within it. I begged my nanny to help me brush it out; I didn’t want Mother to find out I’d disobeyed her and climbed the tree. She eventually found us untangling the last few twigs. This was the first time I wished for shorter hair.

I was twelve now, and my days of tree climbing were far behind me. Now, it was grass that was getting caught up in my hair. I had taken to lying down in the gardens, or out in the fields. I liked looking up into the sky, watching the clouds pass. I busied myself with finding patterns or shapes, and telling stories with them. Mother caught me on the hill one day, and told me I was far too old for such childish nonsense. After all, it was ruining the hairstyles our servants spent hours on every morning. I wished for shorter hair because it would take less time to style, and I wouldn’t have felt so guilty.

At the age of fifteen, I began riding horses for fun, rather than for travel. I loved to urge Rocinante into a gallop, the wind tearing through my hair. It felt like freedom. I’d get off the horse and no matter what, Mother would find me and point to how the wind knotted my hair up. Eventually, she forced me to start wearing it in an intricate braid. It took nearly an hour for the servant girl to complete, and by that time, I usually had somewhere else to be. I figured this was by design. I wished my hair was so short that I couldn’t even braid it. That way, it  _ had _ to be left free to fly in the wind.

I was 17 on the morning of my wedding to King Leopold. I was terrified, and had just finished putting on my dress. Mother had just walked out to find the women to fix my hair. Still grieving for Daniel, furious with Snow, and blind with rage at my mother, I searched for a way out. I wasn’t thinking very clearly, so when I spotted the scissors on the vanity, I didn’t understand the consequences of my actions. I picked them up, grabbed a large chunk of my hair, and cut it off at the ear. I grabbed the rest and evened it out. Mother screamed when she opened the door. I dropped the scissors.

“What have you done, you impertinent fool!” she shrieked. I smirked triumphantly. “What king would marry an ugly little hussy like this?” The insult stung, but I still felt vindicated. Finally,  _ finally _ , I had found a way to get back at her, a way to beat her.

“Well then I suppose we can’t get married,” I shrugged. She strode forward, two young women following meekly behind her, holding all of their hair styling tools. Her hand struck my face. All I knew at first was the sound of her flesh hitting mine. The stinging pain didn’t register until a few moments later.

“You idiot,” she sneered, waving her hand. I could feel the magic encasing me. When the smoke dissipated, I turned to the vanity. In the mirror, I saw my hair had grown back even longer, and thicker than before.

“No!” I cried. I had beaten her! She was using magic to undermine my victory, and I was enraged. She couldn’t just cheat like this!

“Girls, fix my daughter’s hair. Regina, darling, haven’t you learned by now? You will  _ never _ beat me,” she taunted, picking up the scissors. “These won’t work on that hair of yours anymore, dear.” I was so frustrated I just wanted to cry. As the women silently styled my hair, I sobbed for all I had lost that day. I lost the love of my life to a cruel, and untimely death. I lost my sovereignty to a man more than twice my age. I lost the simple freedom of cutting my hair to my mother’s heinous magic. She was right. How could I  _ ever _ win?

Years later, I discovered a way. I enacted the curse, envisioning my perfect world, a world without magic where all of my enemies would live unhappily ever after. I woke up that first morning in Storybrooke, Maine and looked in the mirror, smiling as I touched my new hairstyle. It was short, cut just above my neck. Just like I had always wished for.

**Author's Note:**

> It's my holiday break, and I'm determined to ignore all of my homework. Please, help me out by sending in prompts!
> 
> Thanks for reading, as always. Feel free to check out my other works, and/or leave a review!!


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